Ignoring the fear rising in the pit of his stomach, Misha leaned closer to Tristan to hide the boy from sight with his body. Though he had a bad feeling about the masked man and knew he had to keep a low profile, Misha wouldn't shy away and push the child into the spotlight to save his skin—he'd rather die. Fear wouldn't stop him from protecting the people he held dear, never.
Jake acted out of character and told them to run earlier, but Misha still did not trust him with Tristan's life. So he took it upon himself to protect the boy, not caring if that put him in the limelight. Whatever happened next, he could face it.
All in all, the less attention Tristan received, the better.
From the corner of his eyes, Misha glanced at Jake, who seemed utterly unbothered by the masked man's sudden appearance. Instead, he wore a disdainful look that urged people to beat him up, his emerald eyes filled with contempt. It was the usual annoying face.
Misha's mouth twitched. Could that idiot not court death when he was in the vicinity? He didn't want to become collateral damage, thank you!
"Oh my, you look like a little lioness protecting its cub," the masked man chuckled, bending over to grasp Misha's chin and lift his face. Dark, unfathomable eyes looked into his, and Misha momentarily forgot to breathe. "Tell me, do you think standing before the kid is enough to stop me from taking his life? It'd only result in your death."
Misha pursed his lips, refusing to answer. Though Tristan wasn't crying, he was trembling like a leaf, barely managing to hold back his tears. It brought out his protective instinct, and all the fear he felt was thrown at the back of his mind. And so, the teenager put on a brave front for the child's sake, gritting his teeth and enduring silently.
Only the goosebumps on his arms betrayed his disgust.
Gosh, he hated being touched. He hated it so damn much.
Still, Misha knew better than to bark at the man. Instead, he allowed him to scrutinize his face to his heart's content, letting him turn his head left and right. Misha didn't want to anger the masked man, whose temper was a mystery, and endanger the boy. Therefore, he was obedient. For once, he resisted the urge to fight back and didn't sink his teeth into the man's hand, though it was oh-so-tempting.
"You have quite a beautiful face," the masked man let out a chuckle after a while, caressing the teenager's cheek with his gloved thumb. "I wonder how much you'd fetch on the black market."
The words resounded like thunder in Misha's ears, and his heart skipped a beat. His eyes grew wider, but he did not make a sound. Only inwardly did he allow himself to curse Angela and Matthew. If the masked man was related to human trafficking, what kind of business were the couple running in the shadows?
Honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"Are you stupid? Selling that shitty brat on the black market wouldn't earn you as much as asking my family for a ransom," Jake snorted, the look in his eyes seemingly mocking the man's shortsightedness. "There's no way that idiot brother of mine wouldn't pay a hefty amount for that kid. Heck, he'd plunder the family's assets for him."
A short silence fell following Jake's words, and then the masked man laughed, loud and clear. He let go of Misha and walked to Jake, crouching to grip the man by the throat. With a smile in his eyes, he pronounced the following words painfully slowly, "What if I never intended to ask for a ransom? If there's one thing I'm not lacking, it's money."
"You never have enough money," Jake replied, not the least bit bothered by the gloved hand gripping his throat. Instead, he kept on spouting nonsense, "Only a fool would say no to easy money."
"Right, that's indeed what a fool would do. Then, shall I sell one of your kidneys?" the man asked, loosening his grip on Jake's throat to lower his hand and pat his side, just where his left kidney was. "Organs are always in high demand; there's never enough. Finding a buyer for kidneys is but a piece of cake."
Jake clenched his jaw, scorn flashing in the depths of his eyes. He said nothing, however.
"Quiet, are we now?" the man softly laughed, trailing his fingers up to his lower ribs. "If not a kidney, what about your liver? Or maybe should I just sell both of your lungs? What do you think, hm?"
"I think my body would be worth more if not butchered."
"Oh?"
"I don't mean to brag, but I'm quite handsome. Pretty sure some would die to buy me whole and alive. There are perverts everywhere, after all."
Jake's smile did not reach his eyes, his expression cold. Despite the heavy topic, his voice was calm and steady, giving off the feeling he was talking about the weather.
"You do have a point," the masked man nodded, a hint of amusement in his voice. He pinched Jake's chin and lifted his head to take a better look, just like he had done with Misha. "Children tend to fetch more, but I guess some people do love handsome men too. How old are you?"
"Mid-twenties," Jake answered matter-of-factly. "I'm pretty sure you knew, though."
"Well, just making sure again."
The masked man patted Jake's cheek before standing up, nonchalantly adjusting his gloves on his wrists. He glanced at Misha and Tristan, who were cuddled in the corner. All along, they didn't dare to utter anything, lest they brought the focus back on them.
"I'll come back later. Until then, I suggest you be good."
As he spoke, the masked man walked to the door and closed it behind him, plunging the room into darkness once more. Then, they heard a click coming from the other side; it resounded throughout the silent room, so loud it seemed deafening.
The door was locked. Godammit, he didn't forget.
Now, dim rays of light shone through the cracks of a boarded-up window, barely illuminating anything. It made it hard for Misha to take a good look at Jake's facial expression. Nevertheless, the teenager stared at where his face should be, a frown creasing his brow.
"What the hell was that?"
Of course, Jake didn't answer. It was as if he had suddenly become deaf, not responding whatsoever, but Misha refused to let the matter go this time.
Just a few minutes before, Jake behaved like a completely different person. It almost felt like Stephan was there, being the fucker that he was and angering people to death! It left a weird, ominous feeling storming up in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn't right.
"Have you gone crazy?! Why the heck did you keep on pulling aggro?! Do you have a death wish or something?! Don't stay silent, answer me!"
"Oh, shut up," Jake finally groaned, unable to continue feigning deafness. "I won't die."
"Oh yeah? He was talking about selling your organs. I don't know of anyone who can survive without lungs!"
"And I'm telling you he won't follow through on his threats," Jake paused to add, "for now at least."
"How can you be so sure of that, huh?!"
"Gut feeling."
Misha was speechless. He had often fought with Jake these past few years, but their verbal jousts usually ended with Jake losing it and storming out. Yet, today was different. It felt like everything he said went in one ear and out the other.
Jake stayed silent for a while longer before letting out a sight, explaining in a tired voice, "As long as they're wearing masks and not letting us see their faces, the possibility of us getting out of here alive is high."
"And why is that?"
"If they had no plan to free us at all, they wouldn't bother hiding their faces. They're concealing their identities, which can be considered a good sign. So, yeah, you can start worrying if they take off their masks."
The reasoning wasn't foolproof, but it wasn't entirely off the mark. They were likely to be released as long as they didn't know what the kidnappers looked like, which ensured they couldn't reveal anything significant about their appearances to the police. Earlier, the man was only trying to scare them off, if not mess with them for his own amusement. Or so that was what Jake explained.
"Also, 'Pierrot' said he wasn't after my family's money, but there are still plenty of other things he would most likely like to put his hands on. If so, he would need Tristan and me alive to strike a deal. Anyway, they surely didn't kidnap us only for a few kidneys. That wouldn't make sense."
Jake leaned his head against the wall, seemingly lost in thought for a second.
"The one who should be afraid for his life right now is you. You're not useful to them, and who knows what will happen to you next. Anyway, just stay still and try not to catch their attention too much, no matter what happens. With that face of yours, you'd indeed fetch quite high on the black market. I'm sure you don't want to spend the rest of your life in a brothel, serving old geezers and whatnot, so be a good boy and keep your pretty mouth shut. Let me handle things, ok?"
Misha parted his lips only to purse them. Who the hell was that man? It wasn't the Jake he knew, far from it even. Goodness, it felt like he was talking to a stranger!
But before he could ask Jake why he was behaving like a decent human being after so long, the door opened. It had been only a few dozen minutes, and yet the masked man was already back.
"Well, there's a change in plans. It seems like I need a little something to show your parents how serious I am," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "Your father sure is cold-hearted. It's almost pitiful."
"That's why you should contact my brother, not my father," Jake replied, not at all surprised by the man's words. "If you do, he'll bring the money to you right away."
"I told you I'm not after money."
"What are you after then?"
"That's a secret, sweetheart," the masked man singsonged before gazing at Tristan. He walked to the boy and said with a tone not in the least bit regretful, "Sorry kid, I need a finger," he purposely paused before continuing, "or maybe an eye would be more, hm, let's say fitting. It would make it easier to tell it's yours; pinkies look all the same, after all."
Upon hearing these words, Tristan couldn't resist anymore and broke down crying. Misha was at a loss and did not know what to do. He was just about to snarl at the man when he remembered Jake's warning. In the end, the teenager bit his lips, looking at Jake with pleading eyes. He wanted to protect the child, but how could he do it? What could he say? What—
"Shouldn't you start with the eldest son first?" Jake said through gritted teeth, startling Misha. "And reserve the youngest for later?"
It had the merit of catching the masked man's attention. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head toward Jake, seemingly pondering the idea. A while passed before he asked, "And why should I do that?"
Jake could almost see the man's smile under the Pierrot mask—the bastard was having the time of his life. Good, very good.
"Brown eyes like Tristan's are quite common, unlike bright green eyes like mine. So, if you send mine, wouldn't it make it even easier to tell from whom the eye came? Of course, you can always send my brother's eye later if mine doesn't yield the results you want."
Though Jake tried to appear calm, keeping his face stoic, his voice trembled. Even so, he prattled on after noticing the man was hesitating, striking the iron while it was still hot.
"My mom is more fond of her youngest than her eldest. Hurting the son she likes less first, with the promise of hurting her treasure the same way afterward, has more chance to trigger her. Trust me, she loves Tristan very much, and knowing the same could happen to him will make her blow up at her husband. My dad is an ass, but he does listen to my mom to some extent."
"Oh?" The masked man paused to adopt a more playful tone before continuing, "But if she loves Tristan just as much as you say, wouldn't it be more effective to hurt him?"
"Not at all. Do that, and she will break down and turn stupid. Now, that wouldn't be of any help to you. So, start with me. It's not like you have anything to lose, anyway."
Jake stared at the masked man without flinching. Even when he grabbed his arm and pulled him upward, he did not fight back.
"Alright, I will start with you."
__________________________
Chapter revised on 2022-06-14
Edited by Clozed! ♥
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